Dusk
by Orangedcgirl
Summary: [TwoShot] Then the hands were upon him, taking his wrists gently, slipping the blade out of his weak grip. It was getting darker, now. Like twilight. [KiraxSetsuna]
1. Twilight

**A/N:** Once again, I've decided to contribute to the unfortunately small collection of KiraxSetsuna fics. This has been sitting on my hard drive for quite some time, because I've been waiting for my beta to read it. Which she still hasn't. So sorry for any mistakes you might find, and as soon as Nat decides to check her email (-pokes Natters-) I'll post the beta'd version for you.

And yes, I'm taking a "break" from my NaNoWriMo sitdown in order to post this. Because I've gone a week and a half without writing two words for it and need something to do whilst I procrastinate. I am so ashamed... -cries- But whatev. I'll manage it somehow... Because my friends are evil and decided that if I don't make 50k words by March 2, then I lose all Angel Sanctuary rights for the rest of the year. Which is just the worst abuse ever, because our cult leader - um, I mean, book-holder - is moving to Arizona after graduation. So I'll be left AS-less. -cries even more-

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** Violence, abuse, cutting, mentions of one-sided incest (come on, it's Angel Sanctuary) and, of course, yaoi. More like shonen-ai, but whatever. Yayz. x3

And, now that I've thoroughly bored you, on to the fic!!

* * *

_No… Those can't be…No! They can't find out!_

Setsuna grasped frantically at the hundreds of colorful flyers fluttering through the air, desperately hoping and praying that they weren't what he thought they were, that maybe no one else would notice the paper rain. He tried to snatch them out of the air before they hit the ground, clinging to the delusion that he could collect them all before anyone saw them.

His hopes were in vain, for there were obviously far too many. As soon as the first one touched the concrete, the whispers started.

_That boy… His sister… Incestuous, despicable… _

They tried to invade his mind, the mutterings and the stares, but he pushed back at them, ignoring the disgusted looks and mocking jeers. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the ground, trying hopelessly to gather the muddy leaflets. They couldn't get to him if he didn't acknowledge their presence.

The comments became louder, more hurtful and repulsed, when more people started to recognize him as the boy from the picture. Setsuna fumbled on the ground, his mental wall beginning to crack. Not much longer and he would break. There was nothing he could do about it.

As the situation became more desperate, an impossible amount of the flyers filling the sky, Setsuna felt the first wall collapse. A tear slid down his cheek and fell off to mix with the mud he knelt in.

He cringed as someone yelled at him, the insult unclear but scalding nonetheless. The second wall fell. Setsuna's hands began to shake.

He no longer chased after the objects causing his pain. There was no point, nothing he could do. His mental restraint was dwindling, and a blinding light filled his head, blocking out the reality of the moment, keeping him from screaming from the sheer unfairness of it all.

Just as another wall was tumbling, the light growing brighter, and he was a hair's breadth away from snapping completely, something brought him back. A liferaft in the form of a sharp slap, clearing away the haze and bringing him back from the brink of nothingness.

Setsuna stared up at Kira, whose hand was still poised in the air. He stared calmly down at his friend groveling in the dirt, dark eyes unreadable.

Words were spoken, hard yet reassuring, but Setsuna heard none of it. His mind was fixed on the moment, that damned picture on front display in his head, running over the situation again and again. He didn't realize that Kira had stopped mid-word. He didn't notice that most everyone else had quieted down and disappeared at Kira's appearance. All he did notice was the image in his head and the papers on the ground and the sheer, unreal _reality _of what had happened, what he had realized.

He could never love her.

He was crazy to have even let himself think it. There was no way they could ever be together, no way to ever be happy. They would both have to suffer if this continued, and that was the last thing he wanted to happen to her. He would willingly die before causing her so much pain.

"Setsuna?"

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his daze, and he snapped. With a strangled yell he tore away from his concerned friend and leapt to his feet, his mind running faster than he could follow.

He needed to leave, to get away from here. He had to leave her in peace, rid her of his tainted presence, the stain on that beautiful, shining soul.

Ignoring the shouts of the boy left behind, Setsuna ran. He ran so hard and fast he thought his legs would give out and his lungs would collapse. But still he kept going, the images in his head not allowing him to slow, to rest. Nothing could change his mind.

He had to leave.

Reaching the home of the mother who despised him, there was no pause as Setsuna flew into his room and immediately dragged out the vacation suitcase from under his bed, and began throwing everything he could reach into it. Clothes, objects, books, they all went into the worn leather shell.

When his room was almost bare, the giant suitcase bulging with its contents, Setsuna's mind finally woke up. It was hazy, yes, but no longer clouded by frantic actions or muted abuse. He stopped for the first time since he started running, and could finally hear his heart racing in his chest, feeling as though it would burst any second, though whether from the run or the incident he didn't know. He felt tears running down his numb face, but couldn't recall when he'd started to cry.

But most of all, there was the pain. The burning, aching sadness and sense of inevitable loss, stabbing his heart and wreaking havoc on his insides. A fire was lit in his ribs, and he almost screamed from the hurt. It was worse than anything he'd ever felt before – not the hate and abuse inflicted by his mother, nor the forbidden feelings for his sister. He flinched and pressed a hand to his chest, trying to breathe slowly, wishing away the blazing sting that pierced his heart.

He knew what he had to do, what always took the pain away, if only for a little while. But then again, he only needed a little while – time to think, time to plan, time to pack. He sauntered into the kitchen, slid a small, sharp knife out of its block, and retreated to the bathroom. Sleeves rolled up, exposing the soft, pale flesh of his wrist. And there, barely noticeable, were the scars.

They were tiny and thin, scraggly and easily overlooked. Setsuna himself often forgot they were there, until the agony started again. Then they became painfully obvious, and he hid them with long sleeves and mumbled excuses, but no one ever noticed the bandages or the blood. Just another reason for them to keep coming back, then.

He pressed the tip of the knife to the skin, just above the pulsing blue vein. One quick slash, that's all it took. He would close his eyes, so as to not see the red life-force draining from him, making him weak. If he didn't look, he couldn't see. Then everything would be okay, and he could think. There was much to be done.

He put a little more pressure, drawing the tiniest bit of blood. The door to the house swung open, but Setsuna's head was too fogged to notice anything but the minute drop of blood sliding down his wrist.

Then the hands were upon him, taking his wrists gently, slipping the blade out of his weak grip. It clattered on the sink and was left, unwanted. Setsuna barely noticed. It was getting darker, now. Like twilight.

He didn't know who it was that had saved him, who brought back his barely-there consciousness, who held him so tightly in strong, steady arms. He simply sighed and leaned back into the enticing warmth, nothing really registering in his mind now, both the knife and the suitcase completely forgotten.

One word wiggled its way out of his brain, though. One that always emerged when something went wrong, when agony and abuse made him dizzy with hurt and it was the only thing that ever cared, that ever really gave a _damn _about him.

_Kira..._

* * *

Long arms wrapped around thin shoulders, the blade gently removed from a frail hand. No words were exchanged, for none were needed. Voices were not trustworthy. 

Kira would never admit it, but he'd been scared when he came in the door, seeing Setsuna with that knife. He'd known Setsuna cut himself, and had called him out on it a few times, but the boy always managed to evade his scolding gaze and scurry away at the first chance.

The incident at school was enough to send him over the edge, Kira knew that for sure. If he hadn't intervened, there was no way he could be sure that the cut wouldn't have been fatal, that Alexiel wouldn't have met yet another grisly end in the skinny body of an abused seventeen-year-old boy.

Setsuna started to tremble, and Kira tightened his grip, burying his face in the boy's sandy-blond hair and breathing deeply. He tried to convince himself that he was doing this for Alexiel, his Alexiel, the only one he loved, the beautiful angel he'd sworn to protect. He pushed away the knowledge that Setsuna was the first one in ages to have a separate soul from Alexiel, a completely different personality, and he blocked it from his mind. It was for Alexiel, no one else. Certainly not the beaten, depressed shell of a boy he was currently clutching to his chest.

He felt Setsuna falter, legs growing weak, and thought the boy might be going into shock. It was quite a lot to handle in such a short amount of time, and his body couldn't take it. But the arms around him just tightened even more, drawing him closer with every shuddering breath he took.

It was only the work of another minute for Kira to get his arms around Setsuna and guide him out of the bathroom, into the living room – impossible to call it a "family" room, Kira thought wryly – and onto the threadbare couch. He pretended to not notice as Setsuna leaned heavily on him, practically sitting on his lap, head tucked under his chin. Kira once again wrapped his arms around the broken angel, only allowing himself to relax once Setsuna's breathing slowed to normal, the sobs no longer choking.

Setsuna stirred once, moving feebly. Kira held on tight and whispered comforts and reassurances under his breath, softly stroking the dirty blond hair. So different from Alexiel's dark chocolate locks. When his taut, slender body went limp against Kira's chest, spent, exhausted at last, tears finally coming to a halt, Kira's grip loosened and he allowed himself to close his eyes.

Setsuna's body against his, the almost uncomfortable warmth, the scent of the salty tears on his pale face – they all burned into Kira's consciousness. Alexiel, he reminded himself. It was for Alexiel. This had nothing to do with Setsuna Mudou. His was a frail, mortal body; simply a vessel for the warrior angel that lived within, the one Kira truly cared for.

But then why was it he felt so comfortable sitting here, that fragile, delicate existence nestled in his lap, his arms wrapped protectively around him. Being with Setsuna, holding him in his arms, pressing against him, why did it strike him as feeling so… right? And when did their fingers become laced together? Kira absentmindedly stroked Setsuna's scarred wrist with his thumb, dozing lightly.

He decided he would think about it later. Setsuna wouldn't be waking anytime soon, and Kira had no desire to move and rouse the boy from his much-needed break from reality. The time would come soon enough where he had to face more desperate situations than this. Kira could only hope that someone would be there to keep the boy from breaking. He didn't want to admit to himself that he'd rather it were him. He kept telling himself it was for Alexiel. His brain kept accepting it. His heart did not. Kira ignored that response.

Reassuring himself for the last time that Setsuna was okay, Kira allowed himself to bask in the warmth and closeness, and let sleep engulf him.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that's it for part one. Now I've got to get back to my "novel", which is totally failing by the way, so I won't post the next part for quite some time. Unless I get reviews, that is. They remind me why I write in the first place, and also that I still have a story to post. Because I might forget that I have the next part here... 

So, you know what to do! Press that little button and drop me a note saying you liked it, hated it, can't wait for the next part, wish I'd burn in hell, whatever. But be nice-ish. Critique is encouraged, random flaming is not. And please, try to spell correctly. Chatspeak irks me to no end...

Until next time!

--Axel--


	2. Dawn

**A/N:** Yaaay, next part! Even though I didn't get very many reviews, I still want to post the ending, because I do like this story. It gets cuter too, in this chapter... Though there is angst and stuffs. Probably more than I've ever written (however horrible it may be). So... yeah. Enjoy!

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** major angst, abuse, harsh words spoken to parental units, fleeing, and boy love. Oh, yeah, can't go wrong with the boy love. x3 (shonen-ai, though. Not yaoi, amazingly enough. xD )

* * *

Kira woke gently a few hours later. His eyelids fluttered, unseeing, mind heavy with sleep. After a few moments everything became clearer, and he glanced out the window. It was starting to get dark out; probably around six, then. No worries. There was no one at his apartment to care if he stayed out all night. 

He shifted slightly, noticing amusedly how Setsuna had moved in his sleep. He was now lying fully across Kira, head snuggled into the crook of his arm, curled into a tight ball with his knees drawn up to his chest and pressed against Kira's stomach. His shirt was pushed up slightly, and Kira's fingers hovered there, searching. Smooth, pale skin stretched up from the waist of his jeans to where the shirt crumpled high on his back. Kira gently stroked the soft skin, smiling as Setsuna seemed to relax more and stretch out ever so slightly. All thoughts of Alexiel were gone now, replaced by someone else.

_Setsuna… _

Kira closed his eyes again, hand resting on the small of Setsuna's back, allowing himself to doze lightly. No thoughts of anything but the boy in his arms ever crossed his mind.

He failed to hear the front door close, on the verge of slumber once again. Setsuna's warmth made him drowsy. He had no idea where this would lead, what it would mean for them, what would happen when Setsuna woke up… And frankly, he didn't care. What would come would come. And he would protect Setsuna throughout it all – especially from himself.

Wrapped up in such thoughts, it came as a great surprise to him when he was suddenly slapped hard across the face. His eyes flew wide open, but he had to blink a few times to push the sleep away so he could see clearly.

Setsuna's mother stood before them, almost livid, hand still poised from the slap. Kira raised his fingers to his cheek and touched the spot where she had slapped him, wincing as it smarted.

Mrs. Mudou said nothing to him, and her rage was quickly re-focused on her own son. Kira heard another loud smack and felt the jolt in his lap as she hit Setsuna on the back of the head. The blow woke him instantly, and he sat up, dazed. Kira could clearly see the terror in his eyes when he focused on his mother's red face.

"Mom, what--"

He was interrupted by a painful-sounding slap on his cheek. Kira winced even though he couldn't see it, blocked as he was by Setsuna kneeling on his lap. He vaguely realized that his arms were still around Setsuna's waist.

Mrs. Mudou grabbed Setsuna by the hair and dragged him off the couch, ignoring his cries of pain. She began to scream at him, words jumbling together in a giant, angry mess, so that Kira couldn't understand but a few words and phrases.

"…wretched _animal_… saw the flyer… your sister!... in the _lap_ of some _boy_… should be locked up… disgraceful…"

Setsuna merely stood there, no way to avoid the emotional daggers she was throwing at him, the tears looking ready to spill over any second. He rubbed his face where she had slapped him, gazing at the ground. Kira wondered why he was still sitting on the couch.

As Mrs. Mudou pulled back her arm to hit Setsuna again, something in Kira's head clicked. He was off of the couch before his mind could protest, and stepped in between the enraged parent and her son. He caught the woman's wrist before it could deliver the blow.

She started to scream at him as well, calling him _pervert_ and_ fag_, and how she couldn't believe something like this could ever happen in her house, and Kira stopped her with the tightening of his large hand on her small arm. She tried to yank her hand away, but Kira was too strong. He spoke calmly and didn't take his eyes away from the small woman in front of him.

"Mrs. Mudou. I will not deny what you saw. But you have _no right_ to judge anyone, even your own son. _Especially_ your own son." Kira felt Setsuna's trembling hands fist in his shirt. He continued on, eyes narrowing, never leaving the other's. "And you can hit me all you want, scream at me, I don't care what you do. But if you _ever_ hurt Setsuna like this again, you can be sure that I will not sit by quietly and watch. I will protect him with my life if I have to." He released her wrist. Setsuna's hands began to shake at his words, and Kira wanted nothing more than to hold him and tell him it would be alright, that nothing could hurt him now. But he still had to deal with the infuriated woman standing in front of him.

"God will punish you," she hissed, voice trembling with her anger. "You're both going to go to _hell_!"

Kira couldn't help but chuckle darkly at her words. _She doesn't know how right she is_, he thought ironically. Out loud, he muttered, "We'll see."

Taking advantage of her slight pause at his lack of fear, Kira grabbed Setsuna around the waist and bolted out the door, ignoring Mrs. Mudou's yells of indignation as they ran down the sidewalk and into the falling twilight.

* * *

They reached Kira's apartment without slowing. Kira knew it wasn't wise to push Setsuna after what he'd been through, but he needed to get him to a safe place. If they stopped to rest, they'd never get there. And who knew what could happen if Mrs. Mudou had called the police on them and they were caught… 

Feeling slightly guilty as Setsuna breathed heavily from the run, Kira clutched him to his chest and held him tight as he pushed the key into the door with a slightly trembling hand. The door opened, but neither made any move to go in. Setsuna was trying to get his breath back, and Kira just didn't want to move without him.

Slender fingers gripped Kira's waist tightly, the blond head burying itself in his shirt, seeking sanctuary. Kira was more than willing to give it to him, encircling the thin shoulders with his arms, holding him close, fingers running through his hair.

After a few moments, Setsuna shivered and Kira decided they should go inside before it got any colder. It was getting dark.

Gently pushing Setsuna into the room ahead of him, Kira shut and locked the door. He sat Setsuna on the edge of the low bed, not much more than a mattress and comforter, and kneeled so that they were more or less at eye level. Setsuna looked back at him with slightly glazed eyes, the fear not entirely dissolved yet. His cheek was bruised and swollen where his mother had slapped him, and he squinted slightly from fatigue.

Kira took the battered face in his hands, stomach twisting with guilt and anger as he brushed his thumb along the deep purple mark. Setsuna winced and tried to pull away, but Kira moved forward and pressed his forehead to the boy's. He kissed Setsuna's nose lightly, then stood up. His hands gently pushed Setsuna down until he was lying on the rickety mattress. Kira brought his face down to Setsuna's and whispered quietly in his ear,

"You should get some sleep."

His lips lingered on Setsuna's forehead before reaching back to pull up the blankets that clumped at the foot of the bed. After making sure he was covered and warm, Kira turned to take his seat by the door, guarding Setsuna from afar like he always has. But he was only able to take one step, as a weak hand gripped his sleeve.

Kira turned back to stare into wide brown eyes, begging him to stay. They were so delicate and pleading that Kira found himself unable to disobey their request.

With a small sigh of defeat, Kira climbed on top of the bed to lie next to Setsuna, who immediately snuggled closer to him, seeking warmth. Kira curled protectively around him, smiling slightly at the feeling of Setsuna's body in his.

It was unusual, for him to feel this much. He shouldn't be able to; he wasn't human, or even mortal. Nothing should be able to do this to him. Setsuna shifted slightly, rubbing his face against Kira's neck, and he realized he didn't care in the least. If this meant he was mortal, that he could die or be killed just as easily as any of the other soft, vulnerable bodies that inhabited _Assiah_, then so be it. Setsuna was his responsibility now, and it was Kira's duty to be with him always.

Relaxing around Setsuna's skinny frame, Kira was surprised to feel content. He knew there would be hell to deal with when they woke up – Setsuna could now be considered officially homeless; there was probably an entire police squad after them; and they were asleep – together – in his bed, for Hell's sake!

These thoughts soon faded, however, as Setsuna's warmth seeped through him. As his eyelids drooped and he felt darkness overcoming him, Setsuna already fast asleep in his embrace, Kira realized that through it all, he wouldn't want to have it any other way.

* * *

A/N: So, there it is. The ending. Hope it was enjoyable. Please leave me a review, even though there's nothing coming after. I'm a review whore, and maybe some compliments will fuel my creativity and you can have some more of this yummy Kira/Setsuna love.

Ja ne!

-- Axel-chan --


End file.
